The Next Ones
by ronald hibbard the first
Summary: "Eragon-elda? We're here." When Eragon left Alagaesia, he understood that he would never be returning. Now, fifteen years later, with shadows on the horizen, can he continue to train when someone from his past arrives? Or will his fears get the best of him and his students? Feel free to review!
1. A Rude Awakening

"Eragon-elda, we're here," a voice said, shaking his shoulder as he slept.

"Where…" mumbled Eragon, rolling over in his cot. He was still quite distraught and torn at the loss of his old life and friends. Blodhgarm and roughly two dozen other elves were the only people that he could talk to now. And, honestly, he was sick of it. They had been sailing down the meandering river, first roughly east, then south when the river turned, for nearly three weeks and hadn't found anything yet. At least, nothing of interest, or able to support the number of dragons that would be raised and living there. Already, two wild dragons had hatched, much to everyone's delight. Of course, this proved to be a curse in wrapped in beauty. It was then they proceeded to be in the way and eat all of their food stores quickly. They had finally had to give them to Saphira, who took them on her back to the shore. She showed them how to hunt, fly, and many other things besides. In addition, these seemed to be at least somewhat less bestial than their ancestors.

"Ebrithril, we found it." Again, he was jostled.

"Found what?" Eragon groaned, waking up. He looked up to see Blodhgarm. Eragon's eye narrowed at the sight of him.

"The thing we've been looking for: a valley, rimmed with high mountains and plentiful food, wood and stone. Everything that we could have possibly dreamed and hoped. On top of that, the dragons are loving this place. And…"

"Alright!" interrupted Eragon, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Form two teams: one to look for supplies and another to explore the area. Be sure to distribute the locator maps. I'll join the exploration team. If this is as good as your say it is, then we'll start work on our new home." With a simple bow of respect and acknowledgement, Blodhgarm left the cabin. There were to be heard several shouts of orders from several people, as Eragon donned his sword and lightweight leather armor.

"Eragon!" Yelping, he spun around to see who had shouted his name. Seeing that the scrying mirror was showing Queen Nasuada, he laughed, and walked over.

"Nasuada, good to see you. Sorry if I startled you, though you did shout."

"Shout? I know not what you speak of, Eragon!" Nasuada yelled again.

Cringing, Eragon modified the spell connecting the two mirrors together. "There, better?" he asked.

"Stop shouting! There's no need to yell!"

"Damn. Hold on a moment." He whispered another phrase. "How about now?"

"Perfect. Oh my, what happened?" Nasuada chuckled at the tired spellcaster.

"I don't know, perhaps something to do with the distance?" Eragon smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, well. I can hear you fine now. So, how are things? Have you found a new home yet? It's been, what, three weeks now?"

"Yes to all questions, although we just are about to see if this really is to be our home. At the least, the dragons like this place," he said, a slight grin on his face. It was always pleased him greatly to see the friends he had made over the last few years.

"Oh, good. Well, when you go… Did you say dragons?" Nasuada inquired, placing emphasis on the 's' in 'dragons'.

"Yep. Two of the eggs couldn't wait apparently. A beautiful green male and a dazzling purple female. Neither have names yet, though they spend lots of time with Saphira."

"Wow, I bet she's happy to no longer be the last female of her kind."

"But of course. She's positively glowing."

"Yeah? So are you," Nasuada said, a grin starting to break out on her face.

"_Ebrithril, are you coming to the land?" _spoke Lantu, one of the elves that came with them, into Eragon's mind.

"_Yes, I'm on my way._" To Nasuada, he said, "I'm needed, as I'm sure you're familiar with."

"Of course. Well, any messages to pass on?"

"Only that we may have found a home. Also…" he hesitated, wondering if he should tell her. _What the hell, why not? _"Give Arya and Roran and Katrina and Imsira my love. And you can have some if you wish." Grinning, she said, "I'll be sure to try. Take care of yourself. Know that you will always have a home and place to stay here and elsewhere."

"Farewell my friend. _Letta copa._" The mirror turned black as Eragon turned to leave, a barely noticeable tear falling down his face. _Oh Arya. How I miss you._ "Let's go everyone," he said out loud as he stepped out onto the deck.


	2. Beginnings

As Eragon stepped onto the deck, he looked around. At the front of the ship, there was the general quarters, were most of the crew slept. They all had insisted that he have his own quarters, much to his disapproval. Not that many people noticed. Once Eragon awoke, the room was often turned into the meeting room and mess hall. He didn't mind, but wished that everyone had their own room, nay, home. In the center of the ship was the mainmast, a forty foot construct with a thirty foot square sail. By now, everyone had at least a passing understanding of how to rig the sail and steer the ship. Closer to the rear, and below deck, was the storeroom and kitchen. An armory, dining room, and Eragon's quarters were closer to the front. After taking in these, Eragon looked past at the place that might soon be called home. Green. That was the main color, though blue and brown were common. It seemed that there were at least four mountains with view, though they may be part of a range. This seemed like a promising place to raise dragons and riders.

"Ebrithril, we are ready to go. Are you?" asked Lantu, the red-elf walking up to him with a short sword strapped to her right leg, for she was among the few left-handed elves in the world.

"Yes, I believe so." He tightened his belt, again regretting the loss of the Belt of Beloth the Wise, given to him by his old master, Oromis.

"Good, let's heave to." All of the elves disembarked, save two. These were to call if there was an emergency; the rest split into two groups. With Eragon were also Blodhgarm and Lantu, as well as four others. With Eragon and Blodhgarm went half each of the Eldunari. They spread into three groups, staying fairly close together, each going in a different direction. "Well, if anyone finds anything of interest, call for a regroup at the ship." A chorus of elves saying "Yes sir" and "Aye" responded, just as they had half a dozen times before.

Three hours later, everyone returned to the ship to hear what had been seen and heard, including Saphira. The reports were nothing but perfection. Wild deer and Nagran, great boars of the Beor Mountains, were common, as were some type of wolf that seemed different than others. When asked to explain, Blodhgarm simply said that they paid him no mind at all until he got within a few feet of their den. Several asked him to continue. He said that even then, they merely watched, rather than attacked like normal wolves. The talk then returned to the lay of the land. As predicted, the mountains were part of a great range that stretched further east and south. The river cut straight through the center of the range. Forests covered the valley, as did several small fields along the bottom of the valley.

"Well, if no one objects, then how does this spot sound for a new home?" asked Eragon. When no one objected, everyone began the long arduous process of unpacking the ship. When that was done, they set up tents to stay in while the castle was built.

Six months later, the first rider, an elf, named Silver, and his dragon, a silver male named Vindbylur, showed up. They were Eragon's first students, and as such, they had the greatest amount of attention. Less than a year later, that would change, as an Urgal, a kull rather, would be the next rider. His name was Uftak and his dragon was a black male named Svaraum. Two years later, Redlyn, a human from Belatona, arrived. Her dragon was a purple named Diesa. The next year came the last rider, as Eragon wanted to pay more attention to the riders he already had. This last rider was a dwarf named Eldur, the oldest rider, though young for a dwarf, at seven and thirty years. His dragon was named Dy'riell, a handsome orange male.

By now, there were also around eighteen wild dragons, all trained and raised by Saphira. They were different from their ancestors. They allowed elves to ride them as though they were bonded. Both groups realized they were at a slight disadvantage from the riders and agreed for short times to act as though bonded, if only in dreams rather than reality.

A great castle was finished and needed only a name. "Anyone got an idea?" asked Eragon to his students and allies. There was a debate about what it should be. Several fights began to breakout, only halted when Saphira stomped her foot heavily on the floor, shaking the room itself and causing a small cascade of dust to fall on their heads. Eventually, there were only two options: New Vroengard and Shur'fell (literally, Mountain of the Dragons). Both were well thought and both had lots of support. But Shur'fell won out by seven votes, even with Eragon voting for New Vroengard. Messengers, Silvar and Vindbylur, were thereafter sent to the Empire, the Elves, Uragla Nation, and Dwarven Kingdom to tell the news.

More time passed. Eragon trained the riders in magic, sword fighting, concentration, focus, knowledge, and law-keeping. Saphira taught her dragons how to identify various weather systems, how to best deal with them, fight in midair, how best to fight a larger and smaller foe. The best, or perhaps the worst, training for all of them came on the sixth year that Eragon had been there. Lethrblaka, perhaps the only ones in the world, attacked Shur'lum. No one knew where they came from or where they went or even what they wanted. They simply attacked the castle, then disappeared as quickly as they had come. The Lethrblaka all survived, but none escaped unscathed. The Riders had not fared much better. Though they and their dragons all had wards put up by themselves and Eragon, they still were hurt. Only Eragon, Saphira, Blodhgarm, and Thesphus, Blodhgarm's temporary dragon, survived without hurt. The Lethrblaka were not seen again for many years.

Throughout all of this, Eragon started to feel that there was something _wrong_ in Alagaesia. When he told Saphira about it, she suggested that he talk to the Queens and King of all of the kingdoms. He did so, talking to Orik, Nasuada and Arya. None of them understood what he was talking about. Even he couldn't explain it, not to the extent that he wanted to. Later, he consulted Umaroth and Glaedr about it. They knew nothing of what he feared or spoke of. Eventually, the feeling subsided, to the point that he gave it no further thought.

_Besides, _he said to himself, upon his realization that he could easily ignore it, _I have other things to worry about. I need to continue training the riders for judgment days. Silvar can look into it, perhaps. If there's anything, he'll find it. And, even if it is nothing, he can start to make friendships with Nasuada and the other royals, since that is where he will likely be spending all of his time while in Alagaesia._

_A wise idea, little one._

This was soon completed. Silvar went to AlagaËsia and found nothing out of the ordinary. When he told Eragon, via a scrying mirror in Irilea, the only response he had was a simple "Ah. So, I was wrong."

"But master, there is something else."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. What is it?"

"I can't explain it; it's just a feeling of _wrongness_, akin to your own, methinks. Sorry I can't be more specific."

"Hmm. Interesting... Come back to me once you have finished what is needed there. Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to send you back with a dragon egg. Perhaps even two."

"Yes, Ebrithril. Is that all?"

"I believe so. Be safe." Silvar nodded, then the mirror showed only Eragon's reflection.

Silvar returned, then left, just as he had been asked. With him were two eggs, a brilliant yellow and a more amber colored one. Within about four years, the yellow dragon, now called Fellebira, hatched to a human from Kusta named Hermandur. He was quickly found to be the youngest rider, at just twelve years, but the most skilled in thought control and mental fighting. He quickly became friends with the wild dragons. As a result, in only a few months, he became nicknamed "the rider with thirty dragons". Hermandur didn't mind the mocking because whenever there was need of the wild dragons, he was the one that everyone came to talk with the dragons, even Eragon, though this was more courtesy than inability. Another five years passed before the next rider was claimed.


	3. Reunion

Seeing that Silvar and Vindbylur were returning, Eragon called a halt to all the training to meet up with Silvar. All that anyone, even Eragon and Saphira, knew was that there was a new rider. So, naturally, everyone called their dragons and flew to the Welcoming Mat, as the stone slab outside the mighty castle was called. At ten by twenty feet, the slab was only intended for landing and takeoff without wrecking the ground. It was here that every rider first had arrived, other than Eragon. Most had their first good look at Shur'fell from the back of a dragon before landing.

To the north of the Welcoming Mat was the Castle itself, where the majority of the rooms were, including the massive library and the Hall of Knowledge, where the Eldunari and the dragon eggs were kept when they were not teaching. Anyone could enter either room, though they needed permission to enter the Hall. Also in the castle were the kitchens and meeting room, also called the Great Hall, due to both the size and frequency of use. To the left and right of this Hall, on both floors, were Quarters for everyone, with the left being for males of all races and the right for females, also of all races. Above both of these was the defensive shield, the polite name for the ramparts. Several houses and shops had begun to appear around the Castle, though they were very much dwarfed by it, giving it a more lived-in feel.

To the East of the castle was the river Edda, the only river in the valley. In keeping with tradition, and laziness, the valley was called the Edda Valley, and the mountains called the Fell Mountains, Fell meaning mountains in the Ancient Language. Each mountain was given a name for each rider that had passed beyond the Void. From the Mat could be seen Brom, Oromis, Vrael (the last leader of the order), Eragan (the first rider), and Thuviel (the protector of the Vault of Souls). Other than the castle and mountains, there was not much, mostly just vast forests, large enough to rival the Du Weldenvarden. Outside the castle were the Armory and Sparing Hall.

By now, everyone had reached the Welcoming Mat. As Silvar hovered above the Mat, people started to realize that he wasn't landing right away, as was his normal. "_Everything alright up there?_" inquired Eragon. Silvar just chuckled, both vocally and mentally.

Just as Eragon was about to order Silvar to land, he did. They saw a flash of blond, presumably hair, and then it was gone under the hood that the new rider was wearing. With a simple flick of his or her wrist, the hood fell.

"Uncle!" shouted the fifteen year old human girl. With long blond hair, a rarity among humans, and having deep brown eyes like both her parents, she instantly recognizable as Ismira.

"You! But Silvar, you gave me the impression that the rider was a man!"

"Ha! You're not the only one that can fool people," came the reply, and with it, a slight grin.

"Uncle! Show me everything! I'veheardsomuchIcan'twaittobegintraining…" He held up a hand, laughing and effectively stopping her.

"Let me cut you off now, before you pass out from lack of breath. Come into the castle and we'll start answering your questions. But first, we must know: what is your dragon's name?" This seemed to put a halt to her excitement. He could see that, intentional or not, he'd struck a nerve. The look on her face told all. "You have named him or her, haven't you?"

"No, I couldn't think of a good name," she responded, downtrodden. Eragon walked over, reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, and smiled at her.

"Look around. Go on, no one will bite, unless you're cattle." She did so, drinking in the dozen of elves and half that in dragons. She halted upon seeing Saphira. "Every dragon has a name, but only two had names by the time they got here. Ask around and you'll find that even some of the wild dragons needed help finding a name."

"_Indeed. Eragon didn't give me a name until he had exhausted every imaginative branch in his mind and talked with Brom. It wasn't until almost I was nearly two weeks old that I had a name_," supplied Saphira.

"Whoa."

"Thank you Saphira. So, better?" She nodded. "Good. Then let's find a name. What are his interests?"

"Food. Sleep."

"No, you goof," interrupted Redlyn. "We mean, what do you feel is his passion, or hobby?"

"How should I know?"

"Oh, child, you so much to learn," mocked a kull, Uftak, turning to leave.

"Hold Uf," said Redlyn, grabbing his arm, "You were no better, what with saying that you 'won't' and 'can't' picture yourself touching the mind of anyone other Svaraum." Redlyn quickly received a look of guilt from the kull.

"Urg. You're right. Ismira, I apologize, I was out of line. I also had problems looking for a name for Svaraum. Come," he said, holding out a large, sharp-clawed hand, "let's see if there's any good names in the library. Oh, sorry Ebrithril. I may have just overstepped the limits of my authority," he said, slightly embarrassed.

"No, it's alright. If that's alright with you, that is?" he replied, directing his question at Ismira.

"Sure! _Come with us_," she told her dragon, and to everyone around them, though that was likely unintended. She ran to Uftak, her dragon doing a sort of half flying, half running pace to try to keep up, Svaraum flying above them.

"Well, with that done, everyone, you have the day to yourselves, but don't forget, I believe all of you have a project due. And I think that includes you as well, Silvar," addressing the sneaking off elf.

"Yes, Ebrithril," Silvar responded, standing up, then bowing. After this, the riders dispersed.

_Eragon. _He turned away from the shrinking figures of his students, and faced Saphira, in all her beauty.

_Yes, Saphira?_

_Are you alright? You seem… distracted. Torn, perhaps, between two thoughts._

_As always, you are right._

_No, not always. Remember when I thought that Dy'riell had snuck into Diesa's room?_ Eragon chuckled. As it turned out, Dy'riell was out hunting and Diesa was in the library, both with their minds closed off to allow better concentration at their tasks. However, no one but Hermandur, somehow, knew that, and when searched for, neither dragon was found, nor were both riders, as they were in the forest practicing listening to all. There was much embarrassment to both Eragon and Saphira.

_Alright, you have me there._

_But often, little one, I am right._

_Yes, you are, _Eragon replied. Walking toward her, he noticed something odd. _Saphira, you're missing a scale again._

_So?_He climbed aboard her saddle, large enough for two people to ride in comfort. She started up, leaving the ground far behind.

_It's right between your eyes. _He sent her a mental picture, while leaning into the crook between her shoulder blades and the base of her neck. It was often said by his students that it was undignified, like trying to hug a dragon while in flight. He and Saphira never paid much attention. _It's kind of like a little bull's eye. Don't be surprised if anyone calls you three eyes or something equally funny._

_Oh, shut up, _she snapped, pulling into a steep dive, followed by an intense climb, topping that off with a spiral and loop at the same time. Eragon laughed at the fake anger and pure joy that he and Saphira always had while flying. Ever since she was large enough, he always tried to fly with her whenever he could. In spite of the fact that the first time he flew resulted in almost no back to his legs, he loved it. Though the scars had been removed when he was transformed by the dragons, he still had the pain-filled memory.

_So, _Saphira asked a short time later, floating on gusts of wind, _what is the problem, little one? You never did answer me._

_Oh? So it was. Well, I guess I should tell someone._

_That's the spirit, Lord Optimism, _she retorted, rolling her eyes.

_Thanks. It's just, well, when Ismira arrived, she stirred up a lot of old memories, mostly good ones._

_Of? _Saphira pressed.

_Mainly Roran and Katrina, but… Also Arya. Plancar Valley. Horst, Sloan, Brom, Carvahall, Garrow…_

_Mm… I understand. You miss your friends and family. These things happen. Even I… Well that doesn't matter._

_What?_ He continued pressing her, now turning the conversation to her. When speech was not forthcoming, he said _Hey, now, listen. You told me to say what was wrong and I told you. Your turn. No passing. Period._

_Ah, very well. If you must know, I miss Firnen. And Solembum and Angela._

_Seriously? Angela? That… woman?_ Eragon said, unable to formulate a better description.

_Hey, be nice now. She's a, um, wonderful person._

_Getting information from Angela is liking trying to open a chestnut with a blade of grass using one's toes. And not with a dragon's, I mean, _he corrected, with a chuckle.

_I guess. _They flew on in silence for some time after. Then, Saphira spoke once more. _Little One, shall we see what Ismira and Uftak have come up with for a name?_

_Yes. And also, totally unrelated, we were right._

_About what? _Saphira asked as they descended, circling the castle as they went.

_Urgals being good riders. You said _'They will make good Riders'_, to which I responded with _'I hope you are right'_. It seems my anxiety was unfounded and your enthusiasm was well-founded._

_Yes, I believe so. Well done partner-of-my-heart. _They spent the next few minutes in joyful silence, enjoying each other's presence and comforting words. After that, they were there. As Eragon dismounted, Saphira took a moment to admire the great wood doors the blocked the entry way. Each was twelve feet while and double that in height. Each weighed six hundred pounds and so could only be opened by magic or dragons. Due to their weight, they were almost always open, only closing in the bitter cold of winter, and to protect the castle when it was attacked. This was always a strange sight, as there were frequent staged attacks in which the castle was attacked by some students, or attacked by all students against Eragon. This last configuration was dropped three years ago when one student passed out while trying to hold open the doors.

Eragon, followed by Saphira walked through the open doors into the Entry Hall, from where the halls leading to the quarters was found. Ahead of them was the Great Hall, the largest room in the city, followed closely by the Library, the target of their journey. Through another set of doors, at the back of the Great Hall, and they were there. Several shouts of "Hail, Ebrithril!" came from all over the Great Hall and from the Library. When they reached the center of the Library, where normally eight tables sat, there were only piles of books. At each table, there was an elf or rider.

"Eragon, thank goodness!" came the exasperated sound of the chief librarian, Tarnin, followed by several sharp words in Ancient Language and others that Eragon didn't recognize.

"Who's making all the noise? Or is there something I know not of?" he said walking toward the largest of the piles, were he just barely make out the top of a dragon wing, an amber one at that.

"It's them. They haven't stopped talking or being a rambunctious crowd since they got here an hour ago," said Tarnin, falling into step beside him. As always, Eragon drew only a few glances, as many that were in the Library had found what they were looking for and were deeply engrossed in their work. As Eragon, Saphira and Tarnin came around the table, Ismira, her dragon, and Uftak seemed not to notice.

"What about this: _Frefgeln_?" the Kull asked the young human.

"I don't know, I'd have to ask."

"Then do so," he commanded. She did so, but with no success.

"Try Zathvir," Eragon interrupted, causing both riders to jump. The dragon just laid on the book pile, content with the knowledge that he was the center of attention. After recovering, Ismira inquired of its meaning. "It means, _he who fights to protect_ or alternatively, it can also mean _one who defends_. The meaning changes based on how it is pronounced." Turning to Ismira, Uftak again asked what the dragon thought of it.

After a moment, the dragon woke up, wide eyed and anticipating… something. "Well, I guess that settles it," stated Ismira.

"Good. Uftak, congratulations, you get to put all of these books away. Unless you're using them, that is." After receiving a "Yes, Ebrithril," he called Ismira over. "Lend me your hand." Louder, to the Library at large, he said, "Attention! I give you the newest Rider in all of the land: Ismira and her dragon Zathvir." He waved his hand at Zathvir, now standing on the top of the pile, glad to again be the center of attention.

After the applause died down, the four left the Library, entering the Great Hall, where the same thing was repeated, this time with Saphira speaking instead. After that applause also had died down, the four entered the main entry hall.

"_If no one minds, shall go for a short flight, as I hunger. I shall see all of you at the official recognition ceremony._" And with that, Saphira was out the doors and gone.

"Well, now it's just the three of us. See there," directing her gaze to the left, "is the male Riders' rooms. Seeing as how few Riders are here at all, everyone has a room in that hall or," he turned her around, so as to face the right hall, "this one, were the women live."

"Ah. But, what about Zathvir?"

"That is the beauty of the whole thing. For at least the next twenty years, one of these rooms can be yours and Zathvir's."

"Twenty years? Wow, it's hard just thinking about what I'll be having for dinner tonight." Eragon chuckled as he led the way down the hall toward what would be Ismira's quarters. Her demeanor seemed to change in the time it took for them to arrive at her room.

"Still sad that you'll live longer than your parents?" She nodded. "Let's go in, and then I'll let you in on a secret. Ask anytime, within reason, and I'll be happy to let you use it." They walked on down the hall, toward what would soon become Ismira's room. Once they got there, she looked up at the immense doors: sixteen feet by six feet, both doors.

"Um, uncle, sorry, Ebrithril, how am I supposed to get in?" Eragon chuckled.

"That's easy," he said pushing on a slightly disguised door within the left door. "This is intended for riders, seeing as how most riders don't have the strength to move such heavy doors. For now, since both you and your dragon are so much smaller, you can both use this door.'

When will Zathvir be able to open the larger ones?"

"In roughly one and a half months, maybe more, maybe less."

"Great, this would be weird if he never got any bigger."

"Yes, very much so, seeing as how all dragons never stop growing and that their fastest growth time is during the first few months."

"They never stop growing?" inquired Ismira, as she was lead on a small tour of her room. Along the back wall was a bed, a window overlooking the river, and two dressers of roughly equal dimensions.

"No, but they do slow down significantly, so much so that Saphira, a nearly eighteen year-old dragon, is only twenty feet longer than when she was ten years old. After the age of five or so, the 'dragon growth spurt' is all but over. Supposedly, after the ripe old age of two thousand, dragons all turn green or blue and hide in the sea or plains and are never seen again."

"Really?" said the unbelieving Ismira as she looked around her new room, Eragon sitting on the couch along the left side of the wall. He just laughed, shaking his head. "I knew it. Hey, Ebrithril, why are there only two shelves in this dresser?"

He explained that as she grew older and more experienced, she would get things like a sword, bow, quiver and much more. The bottom shelf, really just the bottom of the dresser, was for boots and other footwear. The top shelf was for equipment that could be worn on a belt, such as a dagger, canteen, tinderbox, matches (rare things in the Empire, but not to the elves and Riders), as well as a great deal of other necessities.

"Clothes go in the other, I bet, right?" Eragon nodded. "Then where do I bathe and store things like a Dragon's saddle?"

"Clever, aren't you? If you look at the far wall you can see two doors. The left one is a wash room. The other is a large closet. There is a door between the two rooms, so you needn't go far for robes and the like."

"Wow, is everyone's room so lavish?" wondered Ismira, walking into her closet and looking around.

"Well, yes. Everyone gets the same style, or base, starting quarters. When I leave, it will be yours to do with as you please. No knocking down the walls, however. That's frowned on here. Eldur already tried that and got severely punished."

"How does that work?"

"Basically, he had to rebuild the wall without help. From anyone. Needless to say, this only happened once." They laughed.

"Uncle, this is amazing. And scary." She ran over and hugged him just after he stood up.

"When you let go, I will have your things sent here shortly. I can get you for dinner, or would you like to have someone else collect you?" he asked after she let go.

"Someone else, no offence."

"None taken. There are no seating arrangements, seeing as how there are such great differences between everyone." He walked toward the door, arm around her shoulders. "Before I leave I should warn you: while the dragons here are tame and kind, the wild dragons outside these walls are less so. They won't attack and kill on site, but you best give them a wide berth unless they call you over."

"Thanks, Uncle." With another hug, he turned and almost left. Spinning around he realized he forgot to tell her the secret. "Ismira, do you still wish to see your parents?"

"Later, I think," came the short reply. _Ismira was in her own little world, it would seem_, Eragon told himself.


	4. Evening

The feast, always held whenever a new rider showed up, was about to begin, and there was no rider to celebrate. "_Where's Ismira_?" was the thought on many people's minds. When asked, no one seemed to have seen her after about two in the afternoon.

_"__Ebrithril," _a deep voice called to him.

_"__Yes, Svaraum?"_

_"__I believe I may have a lead," _the great black dragon called from his spot behind Uftak along one of the walls.

_"__Oh? How so?"_

_"__Earlier, around mid-afternoon, I heard shouting and metal striking metal. Also, if you will notice, Hermandur and Fellebira are missing also."_

_"__You think they're fighting? Already?"_

_"__It would make sense, given that you told everyone that the day is theirs," _interrupted Saphira.

_"__Yes, I guess I did, didn't I?"_

_"__Thank you, master of all things obvious."_ At that moment, the conversation was cut short. In through the main doors came a yellow dragon bearing two sweaty, grinning riders and a smaller, amber dragon.

"Hi, y'all," said Hermandur, jumping down. He reached up, and helped Ismira down. There was a moment, almost imperceptible, that the two halted in each other's arms. This was not lost on Eragon, nor on Saphira. Eragon glanced at the great blue dragon, then turned back to the two youngest Riders.

"Hermandur, Ismira, come here. Now!" his voice stern, with well contained anger. When they had reached the table where he and Saphira were sitting, he cast a spell to keep their words from being over heard and another to prevent anyone from reading any lips. "What do you have to say for your selves?" They chose not to answer, instead looking to each other for support, and then looking to the floor. "Hey!" he snapped his fingers, irritation becoming apparent. "I'm up here. Look at me and explain!" Eragon said, his anger now starting to boil over.

"Y…y…yes master. It…" stammered Ismira.

"It's my fault, Ebrithril," interrupted Hermandur. "I was out in the sparing field with Fellebira, practicing a move that you showed me that I was having trouble with. I was so focused, that I didn't see Ismira standing at the edge of the field, next to Fellebira. After watching me for a few minutes, she picked up one of the swords that I had brought and intercepted an errant blow perfectly with the same move that I had been trying to perfect. Rather than stop there, she immediately moved into another sword fighting stance and quickly rained a dozen blows that I could barely block."

"No, that's not true," said Ismira, blushing.

"Well, okay, so I exaggerated a bit. But she really did make me have to try hard to block the blows. And she did do that move perfectly." Eragon looked at Ismira, one eyebrow raised, questioning. She nodded, agreeing. When he saw this, he put his hand on his chin and turned around, thinking.

_Well? _Saphira asked.

_I don't know. Technically, they did nothing wrong, just made everyone nervous. I shouldn't punish them for our impatience. Besides, they really did have a good time; I mean, did you see the looks on their faces when they came in_

_Mmhm. It seems that they do like each other a great deal. More so, even, than you to either of them._

_What!_ Eragon's surprise at this statement evidently remained unconcealed, as both Ismira and Hermandur backed up slightly and took a slight step closer together. Seeing this, Eragon stopped. He took a few deep breaths, then spoke.

"I'm sorry. It's been pointed out to me that you may be, um, very good friends at this point. Don't tell anyone yet, please. I'm sorry, but I still need to think this over." Eragon stopped the spell, then spoke another to amplify his voice. "I find no fault, merely inattention to time." Lowering his voice, he spoke to the two riders, "Go; find your seats." Once they had, he spoke again saying, "Ismira and Zathvir, this feast is in honor of you two joining us. Everyone, dig in!"

Later that evening, Eragon was walking through the forest outside the castle with Saphira, talking as was their wont. Each evening, they would walk to their favorite hill, a short distance from the castle and watch the sun set. This night, they were not alone when they got there.

"Redlyn, Diesa! What brings you two here?" As they often did with the older Riders, they spoke their thoughts with both voices overlapping.

"Waiting for you, Ebrithril, and you also, Ebrithril," the two said, speaking both with tongue, and also with thought. Both dragon and human nodded at each teacher as they acknowledged them.

"Thanks, I think." If Saphira did anything other than nod, Eragon was not privy to it. "So, what is you wish to talk about?"

"We both know what happened."

"Oh?"

"They were doing something innocent, perhaps practicing swordsmanship or thought control, and it transformed into something more than that."

"Nothing escapes you, does it?" He led the way to the top of the hill, where a few benches sat. They sat on one with their dragons just behind them. Redlyn smiled.

"This reminds me of my old home in Belatona. I had a west facing room, so I always could watch the sun set from my balcony. Oft, I would sit and watch, drinking a cup of tea."

"That's great, I guess," Eragon said, more than a tad curious about why the conversation had taken the turn it had. "So back to two of my students, one of whom happens to be my niece…" he said trying to steer the conversation back.

"Right. Leave them be."

"How's that? I'm sure I must've miss heard because it sounded like you were trying to tell me to leave them alone, and that can't be right."

"Quite the contrary. Let them be."

"Why?" Eragon said turning to face his student and friend.

"Because everyone has feelings, even us young folk." The woman got a sort of glazed look on her face, as though she were broaching a rarely spoken of topic. "Just because you don't like that the relationship went fast, doesn't mean that it will collapse. Not everyone has to be about to separate forever before realizing their love for each other."

"Oh? And I suppose you know about this?" a hint of anger entering his voice. He feared that she had learned of his love of Arya, which had been forced deep into the back of his mind once he had begun building the city.

"Indeed," Redlyn eventually replied. Eragon reached out a hand to comfort her when the last thing he expected happened: Diesa spoke without Redlyn.

_"__Wait. Know this first: she wishes to be alone, but not alone. Ebrithril, she wants a friend. Not a teacher, trying to keep a student 'safe' from some nonexistent harm, but a friend that she can talk to without fear."_

_"__Oh." _He spoke out loud: "Redlyn, I'm sorry; I didn't know you were talking about yourself. I thought you were talking about me and Arya.'

"You and Arya? Really? You hardly ever talk about her. How could she be yours and never be spoken of?" She still sat facing away from him, though she seemed to have reigned in control of her emotions.

"Well, it's a rather…" he fumbled about, grasping for the right word, "sore topic. See, when I rescued her from Gil'ead, she was unconscious, badly wounded. While healing her, it was very apparent that she was beautiful. I guess it was then that I fell in love."

"Love!" She seemed shocked.

"Aye, love. A simple word, but it had such monumental consequences. After she regained consciousness, I found out that she did not wish to be too close to anyone, for fear that they too might be killed, much like her guards had in the Du Weldenvarden. I spent the next two months trying to figure out a way for her to open up to me or Saphira. After nearly two months, my transformation to an elf was complete, as yours shall be in a decade or two. Again I approached her, this time as a Rider, and friend."

"_Then he acted stupid,_" interjected Saphira. Redlyn and Diesa smirked at her statement.

"Aye. I professed my love for her. All this did was push us apart. She left shortly after I tried to apologize. After that, I focused everything on my training, so that when we next met, it would be only as friends and equals. After the battle of the Burning Plains, I went north with Roran to rescue Katrina from the Ra'zac. We did, leaving one alive. I stayed behind to slay it while Roran, Katrina, and Saphira flew south. After the Ra'zac was dead, I ran south to join with the Varden. Arya intercepted me, then joined me in my travels. We became good friends on that trip. And for nearly a year and a half, after that is how it stayed.

"When Arya returned with Firnen, Saphira and Firnen became, ah, entangled and the emotions they felt towards each other enhanced our own. It wasn't until then, on that hill two weeks before I left, that I realized that we probably never be together. And she feels the same. All that I have told you, it too can be applied to Arya. From the moment of her awakening, to now, she has loved me. She, like me, was tortured by having to repeatedly reject my advances."

"Oh. I, too, am sorry that I snapped at you and lost control. Would you forgive me for speaking against you?"

"Without a doubt. And Redlyn, Diesa: both of you know to speak your minds, literally and figuratively, to Saphira and me." Redlyn nodded. The purple dragon beside Saphira exhaled, releasing a puff of smoke. Eragon could feel Saphira's slight irritation at her. "However, I also must ask for your forgiveness, as both friend and teacher I never should have assumed that you were attacking me. Would you be able to do the same for me?" When Redlyn broke out in a grin, Eragon also smiled.

"_Enough, you two,_" said Saphira. _"Two-legs take far too long to apologize to each other._" Diesa chuckled in agreement. Eragon turned, watching the sinking sun, content once more. Of course, it was then that the scream of terror resounded in their ears. The two Riders looked at each other, paused for a brief moment, then leapt on to their waiting dragons.


	5. Thoughts

**Author's Note: First off, thanks to all of you who have read! Over 800 as of May 19, 2014, with several followers and a few favorites (you know who you are).**

**I just realized I never did the whole "This belongs to Christopher Paolini; anything that you recognize does not belong to me... blah, blah, blah. On a more serious note, I also feel it necessary to point out that the OC are not all mine: most received their name, at least, from other people's Fanfics. Sorry, but I didn't know that I would be writing this until long after I had read them. My bad.**

**Also, this chapter marks my first Point-of-View shift. There will be many, and they will happen often. Bear with me, and if in time, they are too confusing, I'll start adding names. With that, I turn it over to one of my favorite characters.**

"Does he often snap like that?"

"No, not often, only to those he knows well." At that the blond girl gave him a soft punch in the arm. They laughed, continuing their walk along the bank of the Edda. Fellebira and Zathvir were swimming lazily down the river.

"But do you think anyone will figure it out?"

"What? Us? What's to worry about? Just because were together doesn't change anything."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Think about it: both of us are still riders, even if I was five years before you, both of us are human, both are from the west of Alagaesia, both have feelings; should I go on?"

"Oh, do," she responded, looking into his eyes, "these are so not simple excuses, my friend." They both laughed at that. "So, I haven't met all the Riders yet…"

"So? What am I, chopped liver?" Another laugh came forth.

"Oh, I hope so." Ismira said with a straight face.

"What! Why?" he said in mock shock and anger.

"I love liver!" Hermandur laughed again, rolling his eyes at her somewhat skewed sense of humor.

"Alright, as far as I know, anyone not here is somewhere else. That help?"

"With what? That was the worst information ever!" Again, she shoved him.

"Okay, okay. Eldur would be in his quarters, panicking to finish his politics project, Silvar would be either asleep or in the Library…"

"Doing what?"

"Studying. With all the traveling he does, he gets more time than the rest of us to work on various projects, but he also gets the honor of less time to study."

"Ah."

"Let's see, who else? Ah, yes. Redlyn. She would likely be hunting with Uftak or studying with Silvar."

"Hunting? Uftak and Redlyn?"

"Uftak often complains that the food is lacking something. Never has he revealed what. Redlyn simply likes the thrill and the taste of 'real homemade' food."

"Cool, I could really go for some venison right now."

"No," he said, chuckling slightly, " you misunderstand. They hunt Nagran." Unbeknownst to him, his voice dropped at the mention of the beasts.

"Nagran?" By now, the sun was beginning to touch the ground and they started to head back.

"Aye, great beasts. Boars to be specific," he said, his voice still low.

"Big pigs? Really? That's all? For something like a dragon or Ra'zac I'd expect your tone and volume to go down, not for some pig."

"These things are not farmhouse-sized pigs, they're _farmhouse_-sized boars. Both genders. Each bigger than a horse and weighing in at roughly three hundred pounds each. Tusks as long as two feet have been reported. Whenever one of these things gets too close to Shur'fell, which is rare now, all of us are sent to make it leave."

"Why don't you just kill it and eat it?" asked Ismira, hints of fear starting to enter her voice. The trees a dozen yards away seemed to get far darker in just a few moments.

"We don't kill if we don't have to. During your training, you'll understand. Soon, I believe." Seeing that Ismira was suddenly acting different, in a way that he had not yet seen, he stopped, asking her what was wrong.

"N… nothing, it's nothing," she stammered out, glancing into the woods again.

"What, is there something in there?"

"No, just a foolish and childish thought." She stood up straight, not even realizing that she had started to slouch. Still, she stepped ever so slightly closer to Hermandur.

"No, you're right," Hermandur said, quickly placing himself between the woods and Ismira, "there is something in there. Fellebira!" he called out to his dragon. She launched herself out of the water onto the shore beside them. Hermandur reached into a small pouch on the side of the saddle and pulled out his yellow sword and another, steel, handing it to Ismira. "Here, take this and defend yourself and Zathvir." Several bushes rustled, twigs snapped, and a great crash rolled through the night. "Check that, run!"

"Why?" quivered Ismira, drawing the sword and stepping closer to Hermandur.

"There's a group of Nagran and they're coming this way; they aren't looking for daisies." He drew his own sword, placing himself between Ismira and the attacking boars. "It's too late. Get ready!" At that shout, they charged. A load roar erupted from behind them and that was the last straw. Just as Ismira blacked out, she saw the Hermandur get in her line of sight. She screamed and knew no more.

When Ismira awoke, she laying on in a soft bed, her own, she realized. She tried to sit up, but a hand pushed on her shoulder and back into the bed. Looking around, she saw that it was an elf she didn't recognize that had pushed her into the bed. While doing this, someone she recognized, barely, as Eragon came over to stand by the her. Both seemed to be talking, but whether to her or not remained to be seen.

"Uncle?" Ismira said. Or at least she thought she had. She couldn't hear if she did or not. "Uncle, if you can hear me, nod your head." Eragon looked at her then spoke to her, likely asking why. "Uncle, I can't hear you." Tears started to well up in her eyes as panic started to set in. It seemed to drown out everything else, so much so that she didn't even notice the slight pressure in her mind or the fact that the elf and Eragon had now been joined by another: Hermandur. They were trying to keep him back, trying to tell him something. Finally the pressure broke, akin a dam holding back a flood.

_"__Ismira? Ismira! Thank what gods there are! Everyone thought that you were dead or worse!" _While this assault on her mind was going on, Ismira could no longer keep silent.

"Get out of my head!" she shrieked, falling out of bed, clutching her head, tears never stopping for a moment. When Eragon heard and saw this, he let Hermandur go, rushing to Ismira. He reached out, pulling her into a hug. As she sat there, head in her hands, the voice must have realized what intense pain it was causing, because it stopped. After a few moments, a quiet, soft, almost tender and scared voice broke the silence in her mind.

_"__Ismira." _It was a single, unobtrusive, gentle word. It meant nothing and everything. _"Ismira."_ There it was again. She liked this voice better, but wished it would say something else. _"Very well. It is I, Eragon." _Eragon! She wondered if he was both of the voices or just the one. _"Only the second. Hermandur was the first voice. If you think your words to me, I will hear."_

_"__Okay…" _she cautiously thought. Thankfully, the tears had stopped, though they could return at any moment.

_"__Good. You have a long way to go, but you're doing well."_

_"__Why did it hurt? And why can't I hear anything?"_

_"__The answer to the second question is harder to explain, so I'll answer it last."_

_"__Okay."_

_"__To put it simply, you've never talked to anyone with your mind. Just like opening a sealed jar, a great deal of information poured in all at once. Hermandur wasn't trying to hurt you, he just happened to be too aggressive in his concern. Emotions can go through these links, too."_

_"__Really?"_

_"__Have you never felt anything from Zathvir? Happiness, confusion, contentment?"_

_"__Yeah, but I always attributed those to me." _She felt his chest move slightly, as though he were laughing.

_"__It can go both ways. Between rider and dragon the bond is greatest, though with practice, one can increase the separation and closeness to almost anything."_

_"__Oh. Why didn't I hear anything after you started holding me?"_

_"__I blocked all things trying to enter your mind. Only Zathvir and I can enter your mind. The bond between a rider and their dragon is too great even for me to block completely. I would need to alter the fabric of the world to do it."_

_"__Oh. Okay, I think. And now my second question." _Eragon sighed. Ismira only noticed due to the motion of his chest, which she was being held lightly to.

_"__When the Nagran charged, you screamed an earth-shattering scream. By the time I got there, Hermandur and Uftak had already directed the Nagran herd down river. Redlyn had to jump into the Edda to save you. All the dragons, except Zathvir, were herding the Nagran. He was the one who alerted Redlyn when all four of us, that is, her, Diesa, Saphira, and myself, arrived, that there was problem. For some reason, he sent Redlyn, but not me, the sight that you were drowning."_

_"__Drowning!"_

_"__Aye, drowning. Anyway, by the time the herd was gone, you were out of the water, but still unconscious. Nothing anyone did could wake you. Naturally, Hermandur was questioned, which made him quite angry. He stormed off, leaving the rest of us, even Fellebira, for parts unknown. I sent Uftak, Svaraum, and Fellebira to find him. Um, if you're feeling better, could we sit on the bed? You're a tad heavy."_

_"__How rude." _In spite of this, she stood up, offering Eragon a hand. Hermandur, suddenly realizing that she no longer would try to kill him, again began to try talk to her. Eragon shot him a look, then spoke, both to the elf woman and Hermandur. The elf nodded and left, shooting Hermandur a glare, which was missed be the two male Riders, but not by Ismira, who smiled very slightly. Hermandur glared at Ebrithril Eragon, then spoke to him, who replied. Hermandur looked back to Ismira, then left, albeit hesitantly.

_"__What was that?"_

_"__He didn't want to leave," _he stated simply.

_"__I don't want him here if that's the way he's going to act."_

_"__He won't. He's just had a shock, and not a small one at that. On top of that, he found mead somewhere, somehow, and drank copious amounts. It's gone now, placed under lock and key and magic in the kitchens."_

_"__Good, I think. Are you saying he's drunk?"_

_"__Afraid so. I cast a few spells so that he will remember all that he does, though the alcohol will still otherwise adle his mind."_

_"__You speak as though from expirence," _she pressed, finally learning something of the Rider she knew best. He looked as if laughing.

_"__Indeed, I do. Many a time, in fact. I recommend against it quite highly. Shall we sit?" _They walked over to the couch, where Ismira sat down. "_Would you like something to drink? There's not much, mainly water and tea. Other things are too hard to get here, much having to be sent from Alagaesia, often from the Dwarves or Brodring Kingdom."_

_"__Just water, thanks."_

_"__Here you go," _Eragon said a moment later. "_Would you like me to continue?"_

_"__Sure."_

_"__After they all left, Saphira and I returned here, leaving you with Redlyn, while we found the doctor. After we had, we kept out the riffraff while Redlyn got here with you and Zathvir. Since then, you've been lying on that bed while, for quite some time actually, being examined for any change. When you woke up, well, you know the rest."_

_"__But why can't I hear?"_

_"__Simply put, we don't know. We have theories, but nothing solid yet. I'm sorry."_

_"__Oh." _After sitting down trodden for several moments, she asked, "_so, what are your theories?"_

_"__The most likely is that when you fell in, there was some kind of shock before, or during, your fall."_

_"__Makes sense, seeing as how I was being charged by horse-sized pigs."_

_"__True, but I mean after you blacked out. You heard them coming, right?"_

_"__Um, I… I think so. It's kind of foggy, sorry."_

_"__Don't worry. If there is some kind of trauma, it means that after being addressed, you should be perfectly fine."_

_"__Okay, what else?"_

_"__There's also the theory that when you hit the water, you got a micro-concussion, leading to both the extended blackout and the deafness."_

_"__When would my hearing return?"_

_"__I won't lie to you, it likely won't."_

_"__Other theories?"_

_"__Yes, but far worse and far, far less likely, one of them involving an attack by magic."_

_"__Oh."_

_"__Rest now. We'll get to the bottom of this, and soon." _Eragon stood up to leave. As he walked to the door, Ismira called out to him.

_"__Master, how do I keep from being attacked mentally like earlier?" _Eragon stopped, turned around, pondered for a moment, and then spoke "_Ismira, the only way is to close your mind to the outside world."_

_"__How?"_ She stood up as well and walked to him.

_"__Focus on one thought and on that thought alone. Nothing else should exist in your mind. In a short time, I'll teach you other ways to block your mind. Although," _he said, rubbing his chin in thought again, just like he often did when he had an idea, "_considering what you've been through, you may have trouble with that. I'll put a spell on you allowing you to speak and hear only that which you wish to hear."_

_"__But what if I don't notice? And isn't it harder to maintain a spell the farther away I get?"_

_"__My my, aren't you well versed. You're right, which is why you'll provide the energy."_

_"__Oh. I guess that can work. For now," _she proclaimed after a short hesitation.

_"__Fair enough."_

_"__Thanks Uncle." _She gave him one last hug after he set the spell into motion. With that, he left. "_Well, now what?"_

_"__You could talk to me."_

_"__Who is this?"_

_"__Hermandur. I'm so sorry. About the way I abandoned you after the attack and the way I assaulted your mind when you woke up. About the terrible things I said to Eragon and Lantu, the doctor you saw, when I wasn't allowed see you."_

_"__Hermandur, I'm sorry too."_

_"__Why? If you're mad, you have every reason to be."_

_"__No, it's not that, it's… actually, never mind. You're right. I am incredibly mad at you. Abandoning a friend in their time of greatest need was the worst thing that anyone can do to another person. Then, when they wake up, unaware of anything, never having talked with their mind, you attacked with more force than I ever thought possible!" _Ismira now was yelling, unaware that she had pulled back a little too far and was now speaking to not just Hermandur, but also everyone in his immediate vicinity.

_"__Ismira…"_

_"__And that's not all! Then I discover that you ran off, not to merely be alone in sorrow, but to be alone with drunkenness!" _Ismira was so irate at this point, that it took everything in her to not start hunting him down and destroying him. For his own protection, she blocked him out, placing shockingly powerful barriers around her mind.

Angry at so many things, her mind still kept returning to how he protected two dragons and her without a second thought. How he gave up being the impression of strength in just a moment, telling her how he was scared of some of the dumbest of things: spiders and scorpions. Outside of the Hadarac Desert and the northern area of the Spine, these things were small, and quite harmless.

Soon enough, Ismira fell asleep, Zathvir curling into a ball in the center of her back.

The next morning, she awoke to someone shaking her shoulder.

_"__Imsira," _a distinctly feminine voice said into her mind. It sounded a bit distorted, as though another voice was saying the exact same thing at the exact same time, or perhaps with a very faint echo. _"Awaken, and from your slumber rise. Ebrithril Eragon summons you" _She blinked a few times, slowly coming to terms with no longer being asleep.

"Wha… who…" she said out loud, sleepily. With a start, she stop up in bed, briefly panicking at the lack of sound. Just as quickly as it had come, the memories of the last few days came roaring back into her mind.

_"__How are you?" _the voice said once more, this time moving to stand in front of her. The voice, it seemed belonged a very red-haired woman, perhaps ten years her senior, with eyes that were, strangely enough, purple.

"Well enough, I guess. Who are you? I don't recall meeting you." She sat up in her bed, tossing the sleeping amber dragon beside to the floor. "Oh, damn! I'm sorry Zathvir!" He growled in a way he likely thought intimidating, but, as he was only a few feet in length, it only made Ismira and the woman laugh, both finding it rather cute. Ismira felt his irritation leaking through, now that she knew what to look for, and then watched as he walked off, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left.

_"__Oh, Ismira," _the woman eventually said to her, once the two stopped laughing, _"I do apologize. I am Redlyn, Rider of Diesa."_

"Nice to meet you, Redlyn. I will be with you shortly; I'd rather change into something at least somewhat clean." With that, Redlyn left the room. Quickly changing into a green shirt, with brown pants, and boots, she suddenly realized that there was a short sword in her closet with a note as she was putting on a belt.

"Ismira, I know it seems early, but I wish to start training you as soon as possible. Bring this blade with you. –Eragon"

She did as instructed, strapping the weapon to her back, the handle poking up over her right shoulder. With that she strode out, joining Redlyn. The two women and their respective dragons, walked toward the Great Hall.

**Auther's Note: Just two things to say here: first, I'm sorry if Ismira seems quite... emotional. I wasn't exactly in the best of places when I first wrote this nearly a year ago. I tried to fix it up as much as possible, but sorry anyway.**

**Secondly, READ THIS = I need three names. One each for a female dragon, a guy, and a girl. Winners will be in the story (duh!) and other names might make it into the story later.**

**As always, keep reading, and "Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!"**

**-Ron**


	6. On Gaining a Weapon

**Author's Note: Hi! I'm still here... Sorry about that. A lack of motivation, and mild writer's block, plus work, sleep, etc. meant that I more or less ignored this chapter. Sorry!  
Anyhow, unlike the chapters thus far, this one is totally new, not merely edited, and the quality might seem out off place in comparison to preceding chapters. Whether it does or not, I hope you enjoy it.**

_"__Ah! Welcome! Please, sit here," _a being, whatever he was, said, waving his hand at an empty spot beside him. Zathvir hopped up, his tail twitching. With a start, Ismira noticed Redlyn and Diesa had left the two of them in favor of Uftak and Svaraum.

"Not you, you goof." Waving her hands at him, Ismira claimed him recently vacated seat. Indignant, he hissed at her, and she felt his irritation. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a plate and some fruit and vegetables from the table.

_"__Ismira," _a voice, familiar, called to her.

_"__Yes?"_

_"__It is I, Eragon. Today, after you finish eating, I would like for you to go with Eldur and Blodhgarm to get a new sword." _She was sure that everyone could feel her excitement. The only other times she had used a sword was the day before, and briefly in Carvahall, before her mother found out that her father had been teaching her.

_"__Uncle, who is this that I am sitting beside? Or perhaps, what is he?" _She could feel his amusement through their connection.

_"__Ask him. I'm afraid I must go. I will be leaving a few things in your room for you and Zathvir. Until next we meet, Seonr sverdar sitja hvass." _With that, Eragon's mind was cut off. Turning to the being beside her, she carefully planned out what she was going to ask.

_"__What are you?" _she blurted out, then immediately clapping both hands over her mouth in shock. _"I… I'm sorry; that came out wrong." _The being made a few movements that, in one of the four races would be seen as laughter, then it turned to face her.

_"__Calm yourself, Daughter of Katrina. I am Blodhgarm of the Alfakyn. Elesmera was once my home." _Ismira looked at him curiously; what was an Alfakyn? _"It is our name for ourselves. In the common tongue, we are called Elves, or sometimes the Fair-Folk."_

_"__Oh. Sorry. If you don't mind my asking, why are you so…" _She searched for the right word that would not be offensive.

_"__Please, do not mince words. Say what is on your mind."_

_"__Why are you so different?"_

_"__Ah, yes. This form pleases me. The sight of a cat, the fur of a wolf, the senses of each." _Ismira did not quite understand, nor did she want to know why he had done this. He laughed again. _"Come; let us collect Eldur, then find you a sword." _They stood, then walked over to a short being, perhaps four feet in height, with thick black hair covering his head and lower part of his face. He and Blodhgarm spoke a few words, then the dwarf stood.

_"__Come," _he said, gruffly, with an air of authority about him. Behind the three of them, their dragons walked side by side. It was a very strange sight, given that Zathvir was so much smaller than Eldur's dragon, Dy'riell. The short, stocky dwarf lead the way outside, then into the small collection of buildings. Passing several, mostly made of wood, though there were several stone ones, they soon heard the clang of a hammer on metal emanating from a mostly open-air building, or at least, so Zathvir impressed upon her mind. Inside, Ismira saw perhaps the strangest sight she had ever seen.

The far wall was the only fully built wall; the others had the appearance of being incomplete, what with the other three being only posts, like the front, or only a few feet of wall, filled with hooks and loops, all with weapons and armor. The back wall had a large brick furnace with a blazing fire, so hot and bright that Ismira could barely look at it straight on. However, neither dragon, nor Eldur, nor Blodhgarm seemed bothered by this.

Arrayed on each wall, such as they were, were swords of all shape and size; some with long two-handed hilts, others with only one-hand, or somewhere in between. The blades were of varying length and width, ranging from a few two-foot-long blades two inches in width, to a monstrous weapon six feet in length and four inches in width. Such was this weapon's weight, that it rested on a stone pedestal, leaning against a post. There were a smattering of other weapons, mainly spears, arrows, and shields, which, according to her father, could be just as dangerous and deadly as a sword.

The only one in this forge, for that was what it was, was a woman, hunched over slightly with age and work, hammering away on a hunk of glowing metal. Her middling length black hair was tied back in a braid so as to prevent it from falling on her work, or rather, to avoid smashing it with a hammer and thus making it a part of her work. While her features were different from those of the other elves she had met, being somewhat more rugged and worn, to call her ugly would have been an injustice. However, all of these were not the truly strangest thing about the forge.

Rather, it was the almost empty wall, or rather side, that attracted her attention. Along here was a stone table, made thus so as to avoid catching on fire; a good possibility as there was a small dragon laying on it. It was quite small, only a few inches larger than Zathvir himself. It currently seemed asleep, but it could very easily have been watching with its mind. It had scales the colour of bronze, which seemed to glow slightly, and claws like the sun, with spines along its back and head that seemed to shine.

While the elf hammered away, the group of five waited outside, quite a feat for both Ismira and Zathvir, as they both found it difficult to stand still for long.

_"__Who are you? Why do you stare?" _a voice, deep but soothing, like sunshine on one's back, called to her.

_"__Who are you?"_

_"__I asked first, oh young one."_

_"__True enough. I'm Ismira. And you?"_

_"__I name myself," _a flurry of pictures and thoughts passed through her mind, indecipherable, faster than she could process, _"but you may call me Garzila."_

_"__Where are you?" _she asked, looking about the forge, trying to find the source. The only possibilities she could see were the elf, who would not likely have such a deep voice, or the dragon.

_"__Correct," _the voice said as her gaze fell on the creature. She felt her feet moving without her knowing what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Blodhgarm had held out a hand to stop Eldur from doing something, likely to attempt to stop her. Elsewhere, she noted that the elf had ceased her hammering, though she started once more once she saw the Ismira was not walking to her. Stepping up the dragon, she knelt, stretching out her left hand, which bore the mark of the Riders, and placing it near the creature's snout, but not touching it. Without any warning, a burst of warmth shot up her arm at incredible speeds, filling her entire being in moments.

_"__Now you see why I am called 'Light' in the most Ancient of Tongues. I am light, warmth, and peace; I am power, strength, and wisdom. And you, my young friend, have even greater courage than any other being I ever have met, save only Eragon, or perhaps his father, Brom the Wise. Take my blessing, and use it wisely." _With that, Ismira opened her eyes, and saw Garzila remove his snout from the palm of her hand. She only had a brief glimpse of his eyes, but what she saw could only be described as sun-like, blazing with the light of a thousand bonfires. He laid himself down once more and she stood. She could still feel warmth in the palm of her hand, and the gedwey ignasia, or shining palm, as Silvar called it, was faintly shining silver.

_"__Well now. That was interesting." _She felt this voice coming from behind her. It was the elf. Even with the elves lack of true aging, it was apparent that this elf was aged. No wrinkles marred her face, nor was a single hair grey. Her eyes, however, were what gave her age away. While they had life in them, it was quite apparent that they were tired. As if reading her thoughts, said, _"I have lived much longer than any here, nay, any other, save only a few, nearly all of whom live in Elesmera."_

_"__What do you mean by 'longer than any other'?" _she asked, curious. She laughed.

_"__I like this one. She is bold, and does not mar her words with pleasantries nor excessive politeness. I am Rhunon, first and only maker of Riders' weapons." _Ismira's eyes widened slightly. Roran rarely spoke of the elves at all, save only Queen Arya, but on the few times he spoke of them, Rhunon was one of them. He admitted that he did not know her well, but did say that it was she that made the weapon that slew the wicked king, Galbatorix, and that she was quite old. Regardless, she had a question, and so she asked it.

_"__Indeed, I am the same one that made the first of the Blades all those thousands of years ago.." _her voice trailed off briefly and her eyes gained a sort of glazed look, but only for a moment before she continued, _"and, indeed, I am among the eldest of all beings, having seen countless summers. I remember the first Rider as easily as this workshop, and each Blade as surely as what a dragon is. Indeed, if you ever do doubt that elves are immortal, look at me once more._

_"__Now," _she clapped, summoning over to her Eldur, _"it is time to find a weapon for you. Let's start with your fighting style." _And with that, she launched into a great number of questions, ranging from how much could she lift, to whether she was more accustomed to stabbing or slashing. Finally, Ismira simply said she only had used a blade thrice, once each in Carvahall, and again on a trip to Ilirea, and then finally, the day before this. The weapon on her back had been left for her by Eragon the previous day. Rhunon's eyes narrowed as she nodded. She held out a hand for the weapon. Reluctantly, she turned over the weapon. Rhunon examined it, flipping it along all three axis and sighting along each.

_"__It is imperfect, and the wrong size for you." _She left, shooing each being out the back to mostly empty patch of dirt. A few training dummies, all with straw falling out, stood on one side. Dy'riell had lain down, likely asleep, with Zathvir amusing himself by chasing after a few squirrels. Eldur scoffed when he saw the amber dragon, and Blodhgarm rebuked him, then making the two of them sit down, Eldur grumbling all the while.

Soon enough, Rhunon appeared, several blades in her arms. Setting them upright on nothing, as though they were levitating, _as they very well could be_, she realized with a start, Rhunon carefully took a sword and presented it to her. She asked her to swing it once, a diagonal slash from shoulder to hip. Not even halfway through the swing, Rhunon blocked the weapon with a dagger and replaced the sword with another.

This went on for quite some time, as evidenced by Blodhgarm's turning to other things, and Eldur's leaving to "study and also to find Ebrithril Eragon."

Eventually, just as the sun was about to reach its highest, Rhunon seemed to run out of swords. None of the previous weapons had been "just right", as each was too long, or too wide, or one of innumerable other factors. This had initially frustrated Ismira, but as Rhunon seemed to narrow down the possibilities, and thus asked Ismira to swing more, she was able to take these frustrations out on the dummies or, occasionally, Blodhgarm's own blade. Gathering all the swords she had taken out of the armory, she left, leaving Ismira alone, save only Blodhgarm and Svaraum, who was asleep.

With nothing else to do, she began to look around her, or rather, at the few swords leaning against a post. Taking one at random, she picked it up, testing its weight.

_Weight is spot on. Length is good, _she thought to herself, sighting down the blade. _And I like this, what is called? Oh, right. Hand-and-a-half hilt._ She walked back out to one of the dummies and again began fighting. Envisioning in her mind an enemy she could actually defeat, she swung upwards, cleaving the opponent from his right hip to left shoulder. She followed this motion, spinning quickly to kill another by decapitation. Feeling a bit more confident, she proceeded to begin truly fighting, complete with blocking the other's blade, when a peal of metal striking metal rang out. Zathvir, having returned, jumped, echoing his Rider's surprise. Rhunon had taken a sword and blocked the blade Ismira was using. The two were very close, so much so that Ismira could see that the elf had lines in the green irises of her eyes. _Weird, _she thought to herself, as the elf swung, pushing the young girl away. She handed her a long, sword-shaped object with a loop on one end. Putting the sword in the sheathe, Ismira asked how much the weapon would cost.

_"__None. The first sword is always free. Such is how life is here. Enjoy it now, for within a few days, that shall change." _Bowing once, Imsira thanked her , then walked over to Blodhgarm and Eldur, who looked quite peeved.

_"__He was told to return here," _Blodhgarm answered her unspoken question. _"Come," _he said, gesturing off towards the forest. With that, Ismira called Zathvir and the group set off.

**Author's Note: So, if you liked it, or not, click on the aptly named "review" button, and leave one. If you do, I still need some names: one boy, girl, and a female dragon.  
I'll be gone for a while, so my next chapter won't be posted until at least June 21. I know it's a long time, but that whole vacation from work, and seeing-family-that-I-haven't-seen-in-months thing... So, that's all for now. Until next time, my friends, Atra du evarinya ono varda! [May the stars watch over you!]**

**~Ron**


	7. Flights and Riders

**Author's Note: Greetings, oh devoted readers! I have returned! (Duh) I'll be honest, I gave this chapter no thought during the last two weeks. The few fleeting thoughts regarding it have been rather disjointed. In a moment of panic, this came out. Really, this and the next chapter or two are probably going to be filler chapters. Sorry. However, 2,000 reads as of June 21, 2014! Holy cow! Thank you, all of you. Please enjoy the next chapter of Ismira and Zathvir.**

_"__So, what do you think of Rhunon?" _Blodhgarm asked her a short time later. Their group was walking towards a forest, not far from where they were now, but they were going slowly, as though there was no rush.

_"__She is… different."_

_"__Oh? How so?" _a voice, deep and rough, and just a bit untoward, asked.

_"__Eldur?" _she asked, more than a bit worried. Her father had warned her of magic, that while great, it could be very easily used for either good or evil, as Eragon and Galbatorix had done, respectively. The dwarf, sitting upon Svaraum, nodded, then asked again. _"Oh, I don't know. She just seemed… obsessive and somewhat out of it, if you catch my meaning." _Eldur's mouth opened and head went back slightly, as though laughing.

_"__Aye, she is a strange one, eh? Methinks that it… yes, Blodhgarm?" _Ismira turned to look at the elf beside her.

"I must return to the Keep; me services do not go beyond this," he spoke both into her mind, and also with his voice. He gave a nod to each Rider and a low bow to each dragon. With that, he walked back to the Keep, weaving his way through the small number of humans and elves that were moving on with their lives.

_"__You were saying, Eldur?" _The black-haired man shook his head, likely clearing his mind.

_"__You had asked about Rhunon, yes?" _Ismira nodded. Suddenly, Ismira felt a hand grab her, pulling her up into the air. She screamed in surprise. Looking around, she was relieved to see that she was fine; she was, in fact, better than fine, once she looked at where she now sat. With a jolt, the great orange dragon she sat on launched high into the air, Zathvir following just behind. Ismira laughed, hair trailing behind her. She felt Eldur tense, then he spoke, asking her to release his chest, saying that he needed to breathe.

_"__Ismira, this is what it means to be a Rider. I shall tell you of our history, at least in part. To tell of the whole thing would take days, if not weeks._

_"__Eons ago, Helzvog made us, the Knurla, out of stone. Jealous of his deed, others created your kin, humans, as well as Alyfkin, Blakar, and Uragla."_

_"__Hold on, who?"_

_"__Helzvog is the god of stone, master of the Knurla and keeper of our hearts. The other gods… perhaps in time, they shall be made known to you."_

_"__Ah…" _she started, but hesitated. Her inquiry had been not to the god, but rather of the other beings that Eldur spoke of.

_"__Oh, my apologies. They are the self-names for each of Race: Alyfkin are the elves, Blakar are dragons, and Uragla are the Urgals._

_"__As I was saying, this is how each Race came into being, but neither the order, nor the rate at which it happened. We came first, followed closely by the Dragons. They were beset upon by the Elves, who came after them. The two of their Races would have wiped each other from the face of the land, had not Eragon, known also as Eragan, not interrupted. It was he that became the first of Us, the Shur'tugals, the Dragon Riders._

_"__After this, it was to Rhunon that Queen Tarmunora sent Eragan to gain a weapon. Since then, she has made many hundreds of swords, as well as known many thousands of people and beings. With such great age comes intense and long-lasting memories. It is a curse of immortality: that many we know and love die while we live on in perfect health." _Ismira felt Svaraum twitch, his massive muslecs rippling beneath the somewhat thin saddle.

_"__Do not frighten her, little one," _Svaraum said, his deep, thunderous voice resounding in her head. _"He may be right, but you are young, and will have many long years to enjoy. Friends will come and go, and family will always be there for you, remember that."_

_"__Thank you, oh Great One. I shall," _she said, nodding towards his head, though he would not be able to see it. They flew on in silence thereafter, Ismira enjoying the view of the forest bellow them. Just to their side flew Zathvir, happily flying on, his tongue spilling out of the left side of his mouth, earning a laugh from the two Riders.

"Wow," Ismira breathed at the sight before her. Behind them, to the southwest, the grey stone of the Keep was barely visible. Around them, the mountains that surrounded the Valley stood, like sentinals, not constraining, but rather, protecting them. Below was a vast expance of green and brown, the forest stretching to each mountain in all directions. Slicing the whole of the Valley in half was a River, the Edda, as well as a large number of other, smaller, rivers and streams. Each mountain had snow capping their peaks off.

_"__There," _Eldur said, interrupting her thoughts. He pointed to a clearing with a strange blue shape in it. She sent a picture of the clearing to Zathvir, knowing he would understand. They four angled down, the dragons' wings beating hard when they neared the ground. The pair of Riders dismounted, Ismira landing softer than Eldur, earning a slight chuckle and a smile forming on her face. Looking away from the dwarf, she took in the scene before them.

The most obvious thing was the mountain of blue and white that she had seen from dragonback. It was a dragon, of course. Along its back, a row of spines, some as large as her arm, or more, sprouted, breaking up the dragon's outline. Its scales were large, and beautiful. For a moment, she felt unworthy to simply look on the creature's scales. Tearing her gaze away from the scales, she noticed that the wings, curled and folded like any other dragon, were easily the largest wings she ever had seen, including Svaraum's own. With a jolt, she remembered that dragons never stopped growing, which made this an old dragon indeed. With suspicions growing, she forced herself to look upon the beast's head, which was its self as large, if not more so, than Zathvir's entire body. The dragon was circled around a tree stump, smoke curling from each nostril.

She looked at the stump, intending to see who was sat there, but her gaze was drawn inexplicably back to the dragon, this time to her chest, which was moving slightly, the only sign that it was alive, save only the trailing smoke. There, she saw a sight that made her gasp: the majestic creature had dozens of scars, most of them quite small, all around her belly. What truly made her sad were the four massive scars, which could have only been made by the claws of an even larger dragon, that reach half of the length of her chest.

_"__Do not stare, Ismira," _Eldur cautioned from his place beside her. Nodding, she redirected her gaze to the man sitting on the stump, again.

He was both familiar and mysterious at the same time. His form flickered, as though there were a fire just in front of him. Regardless of the lack of any noticeable wind, his blond hair whipped about his head. His eyes were closed, as though he were sleeping, or listening to everything around him. His face held an expression of peace, or perhaps even joy. At the base of the stump, beneath his crossed legs, a sword, similar to her own, lay sheathed. Choosing not to walk, she instead, knelt, thinking it would be a wise idea. Whoever this man, and his dragon was, they held a great amount of respect from Eldur and Svaraum, who both seemed to have a rather strong superiority streak.

_"__Rise, oh Daughter of Katrina," _the man called to her. Ismira stood, startled.

"Eragon?" she said aloud. He smiled, chuckling. He looked, though his eye remained closed, to her side, at Eldur, and spoke a few words. The Knurla nodded, then the Dwarven Rider flew off.

_"__Welcome, my niece. Come, sit." _He beckoned her over, waving her to sit beside him. She walked, her feet moving as if in a trance. _This… this is what it means to be at peace,_ she thought. Approval and agreement rolled through her bond with Zathvir. Once she was a few feet from the blue dragon, who she now realized was Saphira, she stopped, fearful of offending her by stepping over her tail.

_"__How should I get to you?"_

_"__You are smart; figure it out."_ When she pressed for further help, she received no response. Sighing in frustration, she tried simply stepping over Saphira's tail. The moment that her foot was over the tail, she felt a great rumbling in the ground, and saw muscles in the tail clenching. Instinctively, she stepped back, and just in time, for her tail twitched upwards. Had she not stepped back, she would have been skewered on a spine.

_"__Oh, Great One," _Ismira said, directing her thoughts to Saphira, _"I must needs go your Rider." _She closed her eyes and bowed to her.

_"__It matters not." _Saphira's voice was truly unique: it sounded feminine, but deep; kind, but strong; caring, but dangerous.

_"__I meant you no disrespect, oh Brightscales; I merely was awestruck at your great and dangerous beauty." _Through the mental connection, Ismira felt Saphira grow brighter, as though this flattery was a good thing for her. She risked opening her eye, only to scream and fall backwards, landing on her rear. Saphira rumbled once more, and pulled her great head back.

_"__Oh, Ismira," _she said with affection, _"you have no need to fear. I love Eragon, and as he does you, so too do I you. Go in peace and be not afraid." _She breathed out, the corners of her mouth twitching, as if she were trying to smile.

_"__Er… Right. I… thank you, I think," _she stuttered as she walked over to Eragon, Zathvir already laying on the ground before him. Eragon had uncrossed his legs and was now talking to Zathvir, his right palm, bearing his gedwey ignasia, facing the month-old dragon. Zathvir bowed, at least, as much as a dragon could. Ismira smiled; if even just a small fraction of the stories that her father told were true, then this was a great hero, who all of Alagaesia owed a debt of gratitude to. Never had such a man ever existed before, and there was likely never going to be another. He looked up, his brown eyes looking at hers as though they revealed everything about her to him. She fidgeted uncomfortably. Eragon's face broke out in a grin, which she soon reciprocated. He slid over, patting the tree stump beside him. She walked over, placing her sword on the ground as he had with his.

_"__Today, what we are going to do is simple, and yet not. We shall be doing something that you are already at least somewhat proficient at: the Opening of Mind."_

_"__What does that mean?"_

_"__As I was told: listen until up hear no more." _Ismira blanched. How could she hear? She was deaf! Surely he was jesting. She turned to object, but he held up a hand. _"As I said before: you are smart. Figure it out. I would not ask you to do something that is impossible."_ Sighing, she turned away. Deciding to sit as he had when she first had entered to clearing, she crossed her legs and closed her eyes.

For some reason, this frightened her. She had been deaf for a day now, but this was somehow worse. A true emptiness, void of anything. And then, it was no longer.

A presence, faint, but there, appeared. Ismira, it spoke. She gasped, eyes opening and standing up.

_"__Ismira, what is it?" _Eragon asked, standing as well, concerned.

_"__I… It's Zathvir. He spoke to me."_

**Author's Note: Review! Please! Also, I still need three names (male, female, and a female dragon)**


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